


i want ours to be an endless song

by jolie_unfiltrd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Technically yes its supposed to be under 500, Wordcount: 100-1.000, and we ended up at 516 so don't at me, i tried REALLY EFFING HARD to get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 19:24:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13958355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolie_unfiltrd/pseuds/jolie_unfiltrd
Summary: If she thought back to the time of spring, before -If she remembered her eldest brother’s quick laughter, her father’s warm embrace, the feel of her mother’s hair stroking her childish plaits  -If she could almost feel the sun on her face and the warm wind whistling through the godswood trees -If she could remember the way her sister’s  mouth quirked up at the corner, laughing even when she was trying to stay mad, or the baby’s curls against his neck, or the little knight climbing up up up -She could remember him, too. It always happened in shades of gray, memories of shadows and dark curls and the way the light hit his grey eyes to drown out all color.---day 3: past





	i want ours to be an endless song

If she thought back to the time of spring, before - 

If she remembered her eldest brother’s quick laughter, her father’s warm embrace, the feel of her mother’s hair stroking her childish plaits - 

If she could almost feel the sun on her face and the warm wind whistling through the godswood trees - 

If she could remember the way her sister’s mouth quirked up at the corner, laughing even when she was trying to stay mad, or the baby’s curls against his neck, or the little knight climbing up up up - 

She could remember him, too. It always happened in shades of gray, memories of shadows and dark curls and the way the light hit his grey eyes to drown out all color. 

First, the gentle slope of his smile, after she had presented him with a favor to take with him to the Night’s Watch. She had hoped her likeness of his little wolf would bring him joy, remind him of home. 

(Remind him of _her_.)

Then, the clash of wooden swords in the practice yard, his laugh challenging even as he pressed forward, ever advancing. She had known, then, that he would escape his own shadow, that his endless brooding would be for naught. 

_You’ll be great, someday_ , she wanted to tell him. 

“You’ll be queen, someday,” he told her, the day she left, with a curious little half-bow, hands curled into fists at his sides, as if resisting the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her and - 

(No, no. That’s wrong. That happened later.) 

That day, he had only wished her well as they started their journeys to opposite sides of Westeros, never dreaming that she’d ride through the gates at Castle Black and ask for forgiveness, for shelter, for strength. That she’d come in with bruises and scars, half-dead already, and that she’d think him the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. 

If she thought back to Winterfell, untouched, unburnt, flowers blooming at the weirwood tree - 

She could almost feel the soft trace of his finger at the delicate skin of her wrist, almost hear the thump of her heart and the way her breath would catch when he looked at her. 

She would remember how he left, before anything between them - tinged with shame and hope and wonder - could even begin. 

She spent years as anyone but Sansa Stark - a bastard girl in the Eyrie, a woman on the run, a half-sister to a betrayed Lord Commander, and forgot many things. 

But if she tries, she can remember. 

And then, it makes sense - how she can see her baby boy’s smile and think of spring, run a hand across her daughter’s braid and see a flash of blue. How the touch of Jon’s hand along her wrist can fill her with such joy, and remind her of the ghosts that haunt these halls. Mostly, though, nowadays, with the chaos of tiny footsteps racing in the halls, direwolf puppies in their beds, another babe in her belly - mostly, it is joy. 

Spring has come again for the wolves.

**Author's Note:**

> so, if you're confused, this is playing with my favorite book theory that there was a little _something_ going on between them - even in chapter one, even before they left winterfell. 
> 
> you can come fangirl with me @ my tumblr: jolieunfiltrd  
> thanks for reading! 
> 
> **song title from lord huron, "love like ghosts":**  
>  Yes I know that love is like ghosts  
> Oh, few have seen it, but everybody talks  
> Spirits follow everywhere I go  
> Oh they sing all day and they haunt me in the night  
> /  
> Oh I sing all day and I love you through the night  
> Yes I know that love is like ghosts  
> Oh and the moonlight baby shows you whats real  
> There ain't a language for the things I feel  
> And if I can't have you then no one ever will
> 
> (seriously his whole strange trails album is a GOLD MINE for jonsa - "the night we met" is KILLER and will make you weep)


End file.
